Tuesday, July 5, 2016

The Mercy of Men: Book 2 in the Saint Flaherty Series by S. Hunter Nisbet

Release date: June 30, 2016
Sub-genre: Dystopian Science Fiction

About The Mercy of Men:


The second installment of the Saint Flaherty Series moves from the hills of Appalachia to a city where law no longer prevails.

When Simon Flaherty’s routine of training and fighting is interrupted by a sudden eviction, he never expects his new neighbor to be the one person he thought was long gone from Scioto City: Connor Hall.

It’s been six years since they escaped from Buchell together—six years since Connor walked out of Simon’s life and never looked back. For Connor, it hasn’t been long enough. Trapped in a cycle of debt to the syndicate he works for, he’s barely making it payment to payment while juggling two jobs and university. One more burden will destroy him, and the help Simon is willing to give can’t balance the shadows of their past.

Fighting isn’t all Simon’s been doing in the years since arriving in Scioto, and the crime bosses of the city have their eyes on him. Getting involved with another syndicate’s business isn’t an option. But if Connor doesn’t find a way to pay back his debts, Simon will do anything to make sure Connor doesn’t pay the price for breaking a deal with a syndicate boss.

In a city without mercy, “anything” goes a long way.
*The Mercy of Men is the sequel to What Boys Are Made Of: Book 1 of the Saint Flaherty Series* 


There’s two guys in the dim third-floor hall, arguing at the top of their lungs as my landlord, Sanjay, tugs at their sleeves. “Outside, outside now! You’re disturbing everyone!” 
The shorter of the two shoves Sanjay. “Fuck off. I got business here, and I’m gonna take care of it.” 
The taller one leans away from his opponent, muscles on his neck standing out. “We agreed I’d pay you next Monday. Today is Tuesday. Need me to spell it, or do you just not know the days of the week?” 
“You’re the one trying to weasel out of it. We don’t take late payments.” 
“You’ll get your money! Now get the fuck out. And if you ever dare darken my doorstep again, you’ll wish you’d never been born.” 
It’s a big threat, and the taller guy looks like he means it, but the other one just laughs. “Monday, then, sweetheart.” 
Sanjay steps forward, making shooing motions at the shorter guy. “Out, now. This is a private residence, not a public street. I could report you to your boss.” 
“Shut up.” The tough gives Sanjay one last shove and starts toward the stairs. 
I step aside, but he pauses to give me a once-over. We ain’t built too differently, broad and strong, even if he only reaches my chin. He’s got spiky black hair and a mean scar under one eye that pulls the lower lid down. A memorable face, one I’m sure I’ve seen before. 
His eyes narrow as he takes me in, and I don’t doubt he knows exactly who I am. “The fuck you looking at?” 
“Just watching the show.” 
He spits on the clean floor. “See that it stays that way, or you’ll hear from us.”  
Us? This is Jones’s territory, but this guy’s white, and most of Jones’s men ain’t. So who does he work for? Hoatson? Constantia? 
Sanjay’s still lecturing the guy who’s probably my neighbor. “Don’t go telling pros like that they can come to my building! My wife doesn’t like it.” 
“I didn’t tell him, I just—never mind. Never mind! I’m going out, unless that’s not allowed now, either.” 
“You still owe rent for the month. You’ve been late the past three months. My patience is wearing thin.” 
Sanjay stomps past me down the stairs, but I stay put under the flickering fluorescent light. I wanna get a good look at my neighbor, if only so I can steer clear of him. 
He stares straight ahead as he passes, long brown hair tied back like a girl, but with a face way too sharp to look like a woman in any light. He’s carrying a flashy leather jacket slung over his shoulder like all the guys back home used to, showing an arm full of tattoos in black and… 
No, it can’t be. I can’t be right after all these years. But that’s Connor’s tattoo. 

About S. Hunter Nisbet:

S. Hunter Nisbet is a dedicated writer of dark tales. Born and raised in southeast Ohio, she bases much of her work in the hills of Appalachia. When not working on the next novel, Hunter spends her time posting on her blog and watching British political snark shows.

No comments:

Post a Comment